


plenty of reasons

by pseudocitrus



Category: Tokyo Ghoul, Tokyo Ghoul:re
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:37:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudocitrus/pseuds/pseudocitrus
Summary: There are plenty of reasons, she tells herself, suddenly, when she realizes.Plenty of reasons. It doesn’t have to be that I’m…Her own thoughts trail.That I’m what?she asks herself, sharply.What?





	plenty of reasons

**Author's Note:**

> written for day 1 of kirishima-week.tumblr.com :)
> 
> has spoilers up to around tg:re:130.
> 
> hope you're having a good day!

_There are plenty of reasons,_  she tells herself, suddenly, when she realizes.

_Plenty of reasons. It doesn’t have to be that I’m…_

Her own thoughts trail.

 _That I’m what?_ she asks herself, sharply.  _What?_

:::

It starts in what Touka thinks is the morning, though really, she can’t be sure. Underground, it’s nearly impossible to count the hours. Time is marked only by raucous cheering (“ _King! King_!”) and long, languid periods of fluorescent humming. It doesn’t even occur to her that _that_ much time had passed, really, until Nishiki at some point raps on the bars of her room. His bony fucking knuckles on the rusty bars make them rattle and shriek and Touka sits up, immediately furious.

“ _What_ ,” she demands; and then, when he tosses a box that lands heavily on the cot beside her: “What?”

“For you,” he tells her. Touka rotates the box until she sees the picture on its side.

“A French press?”

“And these,” Nishiki adds, tossing her another bag. These, she recognizes easily, just by the smell: coffee beans, the same kind they used at :re.

“Thanks,” Touka replies. But her confusion must be obvious, because Nishiki grimaces.

“You forgot,” he says. “Jeez. Why’d I even bother going through all the trouble? Those beans were such a pain in the ass to get without having our supplier ask questions about where we went. This whole time I could have just relaxed and you would’ve never known a damn thing.”

Touka frowns at him, and sets both items on the floor, and lies back down. “I appreciate it,” she tells him, “but honestly, my stomach hurts and I’m way too tired today to deal with you being annoying. If you don’t have anything else to dump in my cell, feel free to get out.”

“It’s a shame,” Nishiki sighs. “Happy birthday anyway.”

She stares. He rolls his eyes, and waves, and leaves.

:::

Her birthday.

Her birthday, _really_?

It sinks in, for the first time, just how long they’ve all been down here. Not just one month. Not just two. Not even three, but four, _four_ , which she knows precisely because of a certain March morning she recalls often for the almost-too-warm feeling she got when woke up to find herself not alone. She was still naked, and not cold at all. His arm was draped over her, and his expression, buried both against her and in sleep, was the most peaceful that she had ever seen it. Without thinking, she pursed her lips, onto his forehead. He stirred, and for one moment she felt a burst of guilt. In the next moment, he was looking at her, and she looked back. He shifted, arm tightening around her. And —

…Four months. It wasn’t like she thought they’d all be back on the streets in a matter of mere weeks. Still, it seems bad, and, probably, it’s only going to get worse. She’s already been quietly handing out some of her ration to the children, and it’s not likely she can afford to really do so for much longer, though it’s not like there’s been too much of an effect on her body, yet. The worst she’d experienced, really, was a general fatigue, and persistent queasiness. And aching muscles. And a slightly upset stomach. And no period, but really, that was the least of all of it. If anything, not having a period for their four months of scurrying underground like rats had been pretty convenient.

:::

_Wait._

Something settles over her, then. A chill.

Wait.

:::

She sits up, so sharply that the cot screeches. A thought occurs to her, so large that for a moment she can barely comprehend it. Her world after a long time had shrank down to the size of her cell; her life had tunneled, focused into the plain math of day-by-day survival. She didn’t figure this into it. She didn’t have the slightest suspicion.

 _Of what_? she asks herself. _Of what?_

:::

There are plenty of reasons.

But it doesn’t hurt to be sure.

And it’s a simple matter to procure a test.

A simple walk, a simple exchange of almost the last of her old :re money.

She waits until the time that best approximates night, the hour when there’s little to disrupt the humming of the lights. She uses up the whole box, and squints at the lines, and stares. In her disbelief, a hand raises to her belly and gently squeezes it, and she suddenly can’t remember if holding her stomach is something she’s always done when she’s —

 _When I’m what_? she asks herself. _Shocked? Angry? Afraid_?

_When I’m —_

_What?_

:::

Her other hand goes to her pocket, where it rests on nothing. She stifles her panic.

_— Right. Right._

He has it now.

She takes a breath. Suddenly, she feels dizzy.

But — out of shock, right? Just because she’s so surprised? And not — not because something is going wrong?

She…

She…

She…needs to lie down.

:::

Touka manages to make it to her cell, though she has to double back to collect the tests and destroy them before anyone can find them. She manages to make it to her cot. She sets herself down on it, slowly, and then lies down, slowly. Her thumb and index finger rub together, making circles that soothe her, even without the cool metal of her parents’ ring between them.

 _This happened to you too_ , she realizes, suddenly. For her parents — at least, for her mother — there might have come a day exactly like this one. A day when suddenly her body felt both too small, and yet much larger than it’s ever been.

_I don’t know what to do._

Her fingers circle faster.

_I don’t know what to do._

For her parents came another day too, some nine or whatever months later. Her hand turns into a fist.

_I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I —_

She makes herself take another breath. She makes herself close her eyes.

_I don’t know._

Her stomach hurts, and she’s tired. She turns over on her side, and curls up. In the absence of the ring, she traces more, absently, over her belly.

Underground, it’s nearly impossible to count the hours. A long, languid period passes, filled only with fluorescent humming. It ends, finally, with a quiet voice.

“Touka-chan?”

Touka jerks.

“S-sorry,” Kaneki says. “Did…did I disturb you?”

“…no,” Touka replies. He’s hanging at the entrance to her cell, scratching his head, guiltily. He looks at her, and she looks back.

She can’t think of anything to say. She sits up, but Kaneki interrupts her.

“Oh — no, you — you don’t have to do that. I mean,” he says, “Nishiki said that you might have a stomachache or something, so…so you can just keep lying down. If you want.”

She looks at him. Slowly, she reclines back down.

“Can I come in?” Kaneki asks, after a moment.

He’s nervous. Why is he so nervous?

“They’re cells,” Touka replies, “but it’s not like they’re locked.”

“Ah…yeah. True.”

He walks inside. He hesitates just a little longer, and then sits beside her. The cot squeaks. He shifts around a little, and Touka moves over, to make more room for him. Even after he’s settled in, he keeps squirming around.

Why? Why is he so nervous? Does he know? How could he have known before Touka knew herself? He’s a smart guy, even if he’s a little stupid, but — he’s _that_ smart? Isn’t it mostly just that he reads a lot of books? How could he —

“May I?” Kaneki asks.

“ _What_?” Touka snaps.

When Kaneki swallows, she grimaces, and then repeats herself, more calmly. “May you what?”

He sets a hand on her belly, and Touka goes rigid. But his hand begins softly circling, and slowly, slowly, she relaxes. Feeling it, Kaneki smiles at her, pleased.

“It feels good,” Touka allows, and this makes him give a small laugh.

“Good.”

Touka closes her eyes. Under his touch, she feels her body’s tension lazily unravel. Her breathing deepens, calms.

“I didn’t forget,” he says.

“Hm?”

“Your birthday,” he says. “I, um, just wanted to say that I didn’t forget it. I’ve just been a little busy. I mean, that’s not really an excuse, I guess, since you should always prepare for the birthday of…” He pauses. “Since you should always prepare for, um, birthdays that you know about. But…I’ll get you something. I promise.”

Even with all its stumbling, his voice is a comfort to listen to amidst the humming. His hand keeps its rhythm the entire while, and Touka feels her eyelids growing heavy.

No one has ever done this for her before. She hadn’t thought much further about what might happen between them; her mind spiraled around thoughts of him but seemed always to land on simple lust. Thoughts of the future aren’t things she indulges often, but even her most ambitious daydreams hadn’t put the two of them together like this, beside each other like this. Just…together.

She didn’t imagine it, but it feels…fine. Right. Kaneki’s hand is large, and warm. It feels good. She feels the gentle pressure of it down to her very core. And deeper.

 _Do you feel that_? she asks.

And then.

She knows.

“It’s okay,” Touka tells him.

“Really?” he says. He’s relieved.

“Yes,” Touka says, and she feels herself smile, lightly. “It’s okay.”


End file.
